


Whumptober (Teen Wolf)

by RealityXIllusion



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Age Regression/De-Aging, Allison Argent & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awkward Sexual Situations, BAMF Stiles, Based on a Tumblr Post, Bedridden, Bloody Hands, Bromances abound, Bruises, Caregiver, Chris Argent & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Concussions, Danny Mahealani Finds Out, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Drowning, Electrocution, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Erica Reyes & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Everyone is Part of the Pack, Exhaustion, Fever, Friendly Fire, Gunshot Wounds, Hallucinations, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt Stiles, Hypothermia, I can't walk, Insomnia, Isaac Lahey & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Jackson Needs a Hug, Jackson is a Good Friend, Jackson-centric, Jordan Parrish & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Kidnapped Stiles, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Manhandling, Pack Bonding, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Peter Cares, Peter is a Little Shit, Peter-centric, Prompt Fill, Protective Pack, Protectiveness, Restraints, Sassy Peter, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Scott is a Good Friend, Seizures, Self-Sacrifice, Severe Illness, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stabbing, Stay, Stiles Stilinski & Jackson Whittemore Friendship, Stiles Stilinski Sees Ghosts, Stiles Stilinski is Not Amused, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Stiles centric, Stiles-centric, Stilinski Family Feels, Stranded, Team Bonding, Torture, Tortured Derek Hale, Tortured Stiles Stilinski, Whumptober 2018, being stabbed, betrayed, broken ribs, drugged, harsh climate, hostage, no stop, pack bonds, poisoned, possibly torture, showdown
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-07-23 22:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16168124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RealityXIllusion/pseuds/RealityXIllusion
Summary: This is simply all of the Whumptober 2018 prompts taken from promptsforyourwhumpfic on Tumblr for the entire month of October. These will all be written for Teen Wolf, mainly Stiles centric unless a prompt specifically fits one of the others.





	1. Stabbed

**Author's Note:**

> This should be updated daily, however, should I miss a day expect the missed chapter to be posted with the next update.  
> "A’s in a crowded street, trying to make their way to whatever event the plot requires them to go to, however, someone obviously wants them dead so queue someone coming out of nowhere, pushing a knife into A’s side. A stops dead in their tracks, overwhelmed with pain and panic as they blearily watch the assailant left. Deciding that this isn’t the time nor the place, they press on for the event, showing up at the entrance, half-conscious and covered in blood. 
> 
> dialogue idea: ‘So someone is out to kill me’ *A collapses*"

In his opinion, it wasn’t like he purposely set out searching for the witch that’d been giving them all trouble for the past two weeks.

He’d been minding his own business, grocery shopping of all things when he was ambushed on his way out to his car. Which in hindsight had to be one of the stupidest things the witch could’ve done, it wasn’t like it was late at night or a dead hour at the store, no the witch decided to come after him during rush hour.

Stiles held onto his groceries with a vice grip as he stumbled through the crowded parking lot. It just had to be rush hour and the day of some sort of festival that the witch decided to make a move. Though he had to admit using the event as some kind of cover was pretty clever, going after him in a crowded place was too but now more people probably knew what she looked like.

He was pissed she didn’t even look like a generic witch, instead, she looked like some sort of secretary with how she was dressed. He was slightly mad she went after him of all people, but at the same time, he was glad it was him and not anyone else.

Someone knocking their shoulder into his side caused a whimper to escape from his lips as he curled in on himself. His steps were uneven and he stumbled every so often. Stiles didn’t even bother looking down at his side, he could literally _feel_ the knife shifting with every step he took.

He could feel his blood slowly dripping down his side, his shirt and jacket growing heavier as they absorbed the liquid.

He needed to warn the others that the witch was actively seeking them out now.

Somehow, by the sheer will of god or something, Stiles found himself wobbling towards his jeep. He slides into the driver's seat with the grace of a jellyfish. Once he was sitting there and had set the grocery bags in the passenger seat, Stiles found himself just...sitting there….staring down at the knife handle protruding from his side.

It looked like a regular kitchen knife too.

A strangled laugh made its way out of his throat as Stile imagined the witch grabbing the knife from her kitchen and thinking “Yes. Yes, this one will do, this one is perfect to stab the human with.”

His lips felt chapped, his hands were shaking and his vision was slightly blurred, but Stiles forced himself to put the keys in the ignition and start the engine.

He hoped he wouldn't accidentally run anyone over, or get pulled over by a cop.

Just the thought of his dad or Parrish being the ones to pull his jeep over and see him bleeding out had him overly away of the speed limit and how he drove.

“Gotta warn the others…” Stiles muttered, shaking his head slightly.

The smart thing to do would be to get himself to the hospital and wait until he was stitched up before he called Scott or Derek. However, and later on Stiles would blame it on his blood loss, Stiles chose not to do that instead, he drove out of the parking lot and thought over which over the pack lived closest nearby.

Isaac was staying with Peter and Derek at the loft, though Peter occasionally stayed at his condo downtown. Erica lived in her house, as did Boyd but they weren’t nearby neither was Lydia or Scott. Allison was out of town with her dad, the both of them deciding to meet up with a couple of old hunting buddies to gather some information on the witch.

The only one who lived closest to where he was at, was Jackson.

Stiles groaned and laid his head down on his steering wheel, _why did it have to be Jackson of all people?_ He didn’t even know if Jackson would answer if Stiles knocked on his door.

The loud beeping of someone’s horn had Stiles jerking his head up and slamming on the gas, which sent him flying through the intersection at a speed that was definitely over the speed limit.

Licking his lips in a poor attempt at moistening them, Stiles kept with the fast speed until he arrived at Jackson’s house, if Isaac still lived at his old house then Stiles could’ve gone to him but some old couple lived there now.

Stiles all but fell out of his jeep, the sudden movement forcing him to stand there leaning back against Roscoe in fear of falling over. For some odd reason, the fact that the milk he bought would go bad had Stiles reaching in and grabbing his grocery bags to take in with him if Jackson even let him come inside.

He didn’t see any other cars in the Whittemore’s driveway, so he hoped Jackson was at least home alone, and he slowly made his way up to the door where he rang the doorbell. Staring at where his finger left a smear of blood across the button.

The front door swung open and Stiles was greeted by Jackson’s scowling face. Only Jackson’s nostrils flared and Stiles realized he probably smelt the blood.

Jackson eyed the bags in Stiles’ hands warily, and Stiles knew he could smell the blood coming from that area but Stiles used the bags to block the knife so none of Jackson’s neighbors would see it if they decided to look over here.

“So...the wi’ch tried killin’ me…” Stiles slurred, the urge to collapse right then and there growing stronger with each passing second.

“What?” Jackson’s eyes finally shot up to meet Stiles’ but it was too late.

Stiles’ eyes rolled back into his head as he fell forward, unconscious.

“Stilinski!” Jackson quickly caught the lanky teen, only wincing slightly as the two large grocery bags he’d been carrying fell to the floor with a loud bang.

“Oh my god…”

Jackson looked over at Danny, startled by the sudden look of nausea on his friends face, but then his eyes followed where Danny’s gaze was at and saw the handle sticking out of Stiles’ side.

“What the fuck?” Jackson practically dragged Stiles inside and gently laid him down on the floor.

Danny ran over and kneeled by Stiles’ side, his hands hovering over him but not making contact, “Jackson he needs a hospital, why the hell did he come here?!”

“I don’t know!” Jackson wasn’t yelling but he was close to it.

The thing was, he did know. If he heard Stiles correctly and the witch really did go after him, and then he came to Jackson to let him know, and so that he’d probably tell the others that the witch made her move.

Jackson was definitely pissed that Stiles showed up when Danny who knew nothing of the supernatural was at his house but he reasoned with himself that Stiles didn’t know, and was injured.

Jackson gagged slightly as he once more caught sight of the stab wound. It wasn’t grotesque per se but it was unnerving seeing the knife sticking out of him and the puddle of blood forming on the wooden floors.

“Get...we need to get him to my car, it’ll be faster for me to drive to the hospital.” Jackson finally spoke, causing Danny to nod and reach out to grab Stiles but Jackson stopped him, “No, I‘ll get him, just go and unlock the car.”

Once Danny was out of earshot, Jackson pulled out his cell phone and texted the pack group chat, ‘Witch stabbed Stiles. Heading to the hospital now.’

Jackson slid his phone back into his pocket and bent down to pick Stiles up bridal style. The boy was unnervingly light, but Jackson pushed the thought to the side as his werewolf strength coming into play.

When Stiles woke up Jackson planned on yelling and smacking him upside the head for being such a freaking idiot.


	2. Bloody Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Write that scene where after the fight, A places their hand on their chest as they attempt to catch their breath but continues to find it increasingly difficult. They take their hand away and realize its covered in blood - they take a glance down and notice a gunshot wound to the chest…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I'm all caught up until October 3rd's prompt is posted!

It figured once they managed to drive that witch out of Beacon Hills, after the whole stabbing incident about two months ago, that the hunters Allison and Chris went to go to for information became suspicious. After all, Chris had mentioned how there were rumors amongst the hunters how the Argents had gone soft and no longer hunted werewolves. 

They just didn’t expect the two hunters to bring a group of hunting buddies with them to Beacon Hills and target the pack. 

Stiles was told to stay back with Lydia and Danny (who unfortunately found out about the witch when she tried killing Stiles again at the hospital and Danny had been there with him) while the pack took care of the hunters.

They didn’t think that a part of the group would split off and head to the burned down remains of the Hale house searching for them. Stiles had been in the middle of ranting to a bored Lydia and a semi-annoyed Danny about how they shouldn’t have been ordered to stay behind when they were a part of the pack and needed to be out there with them, when the first bullet soared through the air hitting the wall right by Stiles’ head.

Stiles quickly dropped to the ground, as did Lydia who pulled Danny down with her. 

“Are you happy now?” Lydia turned and glared at Stiles, “Now they’ve come here!”

Staying crouched down Stiles held his hands up in a placating gesture, “This isn’t what I meant!”

The three of them all yelped as a rain of bullets flew through the broken windows, burrowing themselves into the walls.

“Come out, come out wherever you are!” A voice yelled mockingly.

“Seriously?” Stiles whispered, “That’s such a cliche saying!”

Lydia reached over and smacked Stiles’ shoulder, “Now’s not the time!”

“What do we do? We can’t call the others can we?” Danny asked, looking around him at the various openings someone could use to get to them.

Lydia shook her head, “No, the other’s are all busy fighting the others, we’re on our own for now.”

“Well,” Stiles started, “We’re sitting ducks here, we need to move.”

“Yeah and just where would you like us to go, Stiles? We don’t know how many of them there are!”

Stiles didn’t bother answering, instead, his eyes darted back and forth from the others to their surroundings to just outside where he knew the hunters were waiting for movement as the firing had stopped. 

Stiles bit his lip before saying, “If we stay down low, we need to try and get towards the other side of the house, my jeep is closer to there and I can get us out of here.”

Not really having any other choice, Danny and Lydia agreed with the plan. Lydia went first with Danny in the middle and Stiles coming up in the rear. He handed his keys to Lydia so that if she made it outside before them she could get the jeep started.

It was slow going, making their way across the floor, occasionally bumping into one another or having to freeze as the hunters began firing once more.

They made it a little over halfway when something came sailing through the air and landed a mere few feet away from where they were at.

“It’s a flash grenade,” Lydia muttered, her voice a mix of awe and terror.

“Cover your eyes and go!” Stiles yelled, urging the others to hurry. 

They all covered their eyes and got to their feet, running just as the weapon went off, even with their eyes closed they could see the area around them lighting up. Barely able to see, the three of them ran throughout the houses remains until the made it to the opening closest to where Stiles had parked his jeep. Lydia and Danny made it out but Stiles was forced to stop as an arrow came flying towards him, forcing him to drop down, the others didn’t even notice what happened.

Looking back at Danny and Lydia scrambling to get into his jeep as the hunters raised their weapons at them, Stiles felt a brief moment of panic wash over him. He knew his jeep wasn’t bulletproof, the sides probably weren’t even thick enough to keep any bullets from getting inside.

His heart was pounding away in his chest, and somewhere in his subconsciousness Stiles noted how he could hear the others howls and how they were getting closer, but he knew they wouldn’t make it in time.

Stiles glanced back at his jeep and saw that Lydia was staring at him as was Danny, they both seemed to be saying something but as the blood rushed to his head, Stiles couldn’t hear a word they were saying. He looked away and back towards the hunters, there was four of them total, and each of them was about to pull the trigger.

An odd sort of heat built up in his chest, slowly spreading throughout his entire body, Stiles remembered something he’d read a few months ago. He’d had time on his hands and decided to explore the meaning behind what Deaton had claimed Stiles had inside of him, a spark. He once read that if he truly wanted something, and he willed it to be true then...then his spark would allow it to happen.

Silently hoping this would work, and if it didn’t then at least Lydia and Danny would stay safe, Stiles ran out from where he was hiding so that he stood in front of his jeep, somewhat blocking Danny and Lydia from the hunters.

Just before the hunters all pulled the triggers, Stiles closed his eyes with his arms spread out on either side of him and imagined something similar to a shield to cover his friends and force itself out towards the hunters.

There was an odd  _ whooshing _ sound and he suddenly felt drained, as though he hadn’t eaten in a while, and Stiles slowly opened his eyes.

Stiles stood there, looking over the  _ hopefully  _ unconscious and not dead bodies of the hunters outside the Hale home. He didn’t think that would actually work, he hoped it would but he didn’t have any practice under his belt, he wasn’t sure he could do it.

Panting heavily, Stiles raised his hands to his chest in an attempt to steady his breathing despite knowing that putting his hands there wouldn’t really accomplish anything. He was startled, however when they came in contact with something wet and slightly sticky. 

Stiles held his hands out away from his chest and felt his breath catch in his throat when his eyes landed on the red substance covering his hands. Gasping slightly, Stiles’ eyes slowly moved down his arms and looked down at his chest, seeing the torn fabric of his hoodie and the red spilling down over his front.

He knew what it was, he’d researched bullet wounds not long after his mom passed away so that if anything happened to his dad he would know how to help. However, it was one thing seeing pictures on the web or in case files and another thing entirely to see it on your own body. 

On his chest was none other than a gunshot wound. 

The sound of twin gasps had Stiles’ head jerking up and twisting around to see a horrified Lydia and Danny climbing out of his jeep and rushing towards him. It was as they were running towards him and seemingly shifting sideways that Stiles realized he was falling down. 

Just before his head made contact with the ground, a pair of soft arms circled around his shoulders holding him up. The sweet smell of cherry blossoms had Stiles recognizing the person as Lydia.

“-iles, open your eyes!”

“...on, wake up.”

“Stiles!”

Ignoring the desperate voices calling out to him, Stiles gave in to the pain and lost unconsciousness, content in knowing that his friends were safe.


	3. Insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ever since a traumatic event A has always struggled with insomnia, usually they’re able to mask the issue but as times get increasingly more stressful and A can't take it anymore, queue that inevitable crash at the carer looking after them, ensuring that they get to sleep. Perhaps B could even tuck A in or carry them to bed or help them to fall asleep by laying next to A."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LupaSolitaria, I hope that this chapter was able to fit in with the Peter!Whump you wanted to see.

Even before the Hale fire, Peter had always been something of an insomniac. Falling asleep after having been trapped within his own mind for years, replaying the events of that night over and over again in his head, became a daily challenge. 

One Peter liked to believe he had become particularly good at hiding from the pups and his nephew, not that they would even begin to care in the first place.

However, after the events of the hunters and that damned witch making their presences known throughout Beacon Hills, Peter became slightly paranoid of a possible cult or the hunters who managed to get away coming back for revenge.

Hence the lack of sleep.

Once a month had passed since that...surprisingly dreadful moment which they’d arrived at the old Hale property just to see the Banshee girl, he knew her name only they weren’t exactly  _ friends  _ so it wasn’t as though he needed to call her by it, cradling Stiles in her arms and a small group of the hunters that must’ve broken off from the main group surrounding them unconscious.

It took a month for the first human of their little...pack...to heal properly, even then he still moved gingerly and attended physical therapy for another few weeks. It had been a close call, one that affected all of them, even him, more then they thought it would.

Which is why It was natural that Peter had not seen him until the hospital cleared him to leave and Stiles attended the next pack night meeting.

The entire time Stiles stared at him, frowning.

Peter was barely seated in his car before the passenger door opened and Stiles climbed inside. Peter froze and stared at the boy with an unamused downward turn to his lips, “What are you doing?”

Stiles buckled himself in and grinned at Peter victoriously, “I’m getting buckled, duh.”

Peter glanced past Stiles’ head to see that the rest of the pack had stayed where they were outside staring over that the two of them. It was obvious none of them trusted Peter to be alone with Stiles. Chris Argent who’d come to the meeting was already striding over towards the car, causing Peter to quickly shift it into drive and take off down the down with an oddly giggling Stiles. 

Things were silent for a few minutes until Peter made to turn around that way he was heading towards Stiles’ house inside of his condo downtown. 

“No!” Stiles yelled, startling Peter, “We’re going to your place.”

“ _ Excuse me _ ?"

Stiles’ grinned widened to the point Peter had to wonder if his face hurt, “My dad already knows I’m heading to your place.”

“Why does the Sheriff know that you’re coming to my condo? Why are you inviting yourself to me home?” Peter demanded.

Stiles shrugged, “I haven’t been there before.”

“So what? You decided now was the perfect time to invite yourself over?” 

Stiles looked over at Peter and smirked, “If you wanted me gone you would’ve already kicked me out.”

The rest of the ride was spent with Peter driving in silence while Stiles constantly fiddled around with one thing or another as he searched through Peter’s car. Stiles practically sprinted to Peter’s front door once Peter parked outside, leaving Peter chuckling under his breathe.

Once inside, Peter ignored Stiles for the most part as he went about heating up a meal, which he reluctantly split with Stiles, he didn’t need the Sheriff yelling at him for not feeding his son. Then Peter was forced to answer every question Stiles seemed to have for each and every item he found spread throughout Peter’s condo. 

Stiles’ acted like a five-year-old on Christmas day when he saw Peter’s extensive library section. 

As the hours passed, and Peter realized that Stiles had no intention of leaving anytime soon, Peter threw a spare blanket and one of his pillows on the couch and told Stiles not to make a mess before he turned and went to his bedroom.

Peter laid there in his bed for quite some time as he waited for exhaustion to claim him, and the nightmares to come. He’d been focusing on the noises Stiles made as he continued walking throughout the condo, being nosey, which is why when the sounds suddenly stopped Peter was overly aware of the silence that followed.

He was already sitting up and in the midst of swinging his legs over the side of his mattress when his bedroom door opened and Stiles came running in before he flopped down on top of Peter, forcing him back down to the mattress.

Peter was frozen in pure shock which was why he didn’t protest as Stiles wiggled under the covers with him (Peter was glad he’d chosen to wear sweats instead of just his underwear).

“What are you doing?” Peter’s voice came out terse, every muscle in his body tensing up. 

Stiles’ hummed under his breath and flung his arm over Peter’s bare chest, “Sleeping.”

“Yes, I understand that but  _ why  _ are you sleeping in my bed?!”

Stiles sighed and lifted his head just enough that Peter could see whiskey-colored eyes glaring at him, “You haven’t been sleeping, it’s not that hard to notice. Besides, I could always sleep better-having someone by my side.”

“You’re offering to sleep with me?”

“Don’t be a pervert, you creep.” Stiles laid his head back down and Peter stayed still, listening as Stiles’ breathing evened out and his steady heartbeat. 

On one hand, Peter wanted to push Stiles away from him, mock the boy until he became embarrassed enough to leave. However, Peter could feel his inner wolf preening at the close contact, basking in the warmth Stiles provided by laying curled up in his side. It was...comforting, having someone there with him, reminding both him and his wolf that he wasn’t alone.

Hesitantly, sadly enough thinking this could be just a joke, Peter slid his arm over Stiles back and held him close. Peter lifted his other arm and gently rubbed his thumb over Stiles’ wrist and then lifting his own wrist to Stiles’ neck, scent marking him ever so slightly.

Content, and happy smelling his own scent mixed in with Stiles’ unique one, Peter’s drifted shut as sleep claimed him.

Just before he fell asleep, Peter smirked wondering how the pups or even Derek would react to smelling his scent on Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Instead of paying attention in class I decided to write this.... :D


	4. No, Stop!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No, stop!” A cries as B is whipped mercilessly. Or “No, Stop!” A screams at the demons in his dreams. Or “No, Stop!” A Whimpers as their assailant gets closer….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally wrote this during my Gothic Arts class first thing in the morning.

It all started during a Friday, or at least that was the day it was when Stiles realized he’d been kidnapped. He was just getting out of his jeep outside his house when someone came up behind him and smashed something over his head, knocking him unconscious. When Stiles woke up, he was bound by a rope with his arms yanked high above his head, lifting him a few inches off the ground.

Not even three feet away was Derek in a similar position, only instead of rope he had actual shackles and he was still unconscious. Stiles woke up and could feel the warmth of what had to be his blood slowly trickling down the side of his head. 

Stiles yelped when he finally noticed the man. 

The man was wearing all dark clothing and was just standing there, in the middle of the room with his arms crossed as though he was waited for one or both of them to wake up. Stiles wasn’t really sure how it began, but one moment the man and he were staring at each other and the next, the man was suddenly in front of him using his elbow to slam it into the side of Stiles’ jaw. 

Stiles gasped as his head snapped to the side.

It seemed like that small gasp was all the motivation the man needed. He began using his fists, pummeling Stiles’ torso and occasionally going back for Stiles’ face. It was when the man lifted his leg and aimed a kick directly at Stiles' calf, repeating the motion over and over again until a white, hot searing pain spread throughout his leg, causing Stiles to scream.

The moment the scream left his mouth, and the man grinned, Stiles realized things were going to get worse.

He was right.

With a startled gasp Derek woke up, the man strode over to him and forced Derek’s head up to the side so that he was staring directly at Stiles.

Derek’s eyes immediately began roaming up and down Stiles’ body, his eyes glowing and a snarl leaving his lips.

The man chuckled and let go of Derek as he turned and walked off to the side of the room. He came back holding something in his hands that Stiles couldn’t see but Derek clearly could if the look on his face was any indication. The man barely took a step in Stiles’ direction before Derek was snarling and hurling threats at the man, swearing to tear him to shreds.

Derek was obviously annoying the man as he raised whatever was in his hands and struck Derek with it. The silence it brought was sudden and unnerving. It was then Stiles realized they were both missing their shirts.

“No, Stop!” Stiles screamed as the man began, what Stiles soon realized with mounting horror as he saw what the man held, whipping Derek mercilessly. “Stop!” 

Derek didn’t make a sound other than growling and threatening the man any time he paused to look Derek over for a new place to start. Eventually, the man began to wear himself out, finally leaving the room and giving Stiles a moment of reprise with Derek.

,

,,

,,,

“Stop it!” Stiles yelled struggling against his bonds as he eyed Derek in rising terror.

His yells fell on empty ears as the enemy stalked over towards a chained up Derek once again with thick strips of leather braided together, left loose at the end, this whip clearly bigger than the previous one. Derek shot him a look, and Stiles knew it was because he’d already broken his promise to stay silent and not let anything get to him. However, Stiles wasn’t sure why or how the hell Derek expected him to sit back and do nothing while he was getting  _ Whipped _ . 

Stiles knew that there was wolfsbane coating the ends of the whip, Derek wasn’t able to hide his pain as well as he thought he could, Stiles saw every pained gasp, the trembling of his figure, the blood coating his back and chest. 

He flinched with every echoing  _ thwack!  _ That struck Derek….he didn’t even know who kidnapped the both of them, or where they were at. Something that had begun recently was Stiles could feel the pack through their bonds, he could sense how worried they all were but what stuck out the most was how scared Derek felt. Sometimes, like now, Stiles really hated being the only one who could feel emotions through the pack bonds.

Stiles’ own wrists were bloody, his constant tugging at the ropes tying him down causing his skin to break open and bleed. When Derek first smelt the fresh blood coming from Stiles he’d yelled him, making him swear he wouldn’t do anything stupid or hurt himself further because he “wasn’t a werewolf and couldn’t heal like one”. 

Only now seeing how Derek no longer had the energy to make sarcastic quips back at their assailant, Stiles wanted nothing more than to free himself and bash the guys head in until he felt the pain Derek was going through.

His chest started burning, the ache it caused actually calming him down instead of having him worry he was having a heart attack or something. Stiles felt the hair raise on his arms, warmth spreading down to his fingertips, the ropes heating up against his skin. His breath came out in harsh puffs of air and Stiles was overly aware of how Derek’s head jerked up to stare at him with wide eyes, a look Stiles was not used to seeing on the wolf. 

The look of awe and terror.

Suddenly, Stiles found his arms free, the freedom abrupt and causing him to fall down harshly to his knees. The pain of slamming his kneecaps into concrete flooring didn’t even register with him as Stiles forced himself to get to his feet. 

Somehow, without even knowing why, Stiles felt his body moving on its own. He stepped towards the man with the whip and just as the man lunged towards him, Stiles flung his arm out and the man went sailing through the air. The sound of his body hitting the wall head first breaking the silence like a gunshot wound. As quickly as it came, the sudden strength Stiles found himself with vanished, leaving him with his limbs struggling to hold himself up.

Stiles stumbled over towards Derek who had yet to say a single word and gently touched his fingertips to one of the various slices in Derek’s skin. Derek tensed under his touch and opened his mouth but Stiles quickly shushed him and focused on Derek’s wounds. 

He remembered how members of the pack had taken his pain, back with the witch, when he was shot and even many times before then. Stiles remembered the sensation of his pain slowly being leaked from him, and focus on how he wanted to be able to save Derek from the pain.

As his own pain grew, Stiles opened his eyes and watched as black veins formed on his arm and gently moved beneath his skin, then Stiles glanced up at Derek who was staring intently at Stiles the entire time. 

The moment he realized what Stiles was doing Derek tried pulling away and even yelled at him to stop, to knock it off but Stiles ignored him.

It didn’t take a genius to know the man kidnapped Stiles to get Derek to cooperate. 

Once he was sure Derek was no longer in pain, and Stiles himself was on the verge of unconsciousness not able to take any more, Stiles staggered his way over to the man and searched through his pockets for the keys to Derek’s shackles.

He purposely ignored the man’s skull being smashed in and the blood puddle soaking into Stiles’ shoes.

Derek was healing, albeit slowly, so once Stiles managed to get him down Derek ended up having to be the one to steady Stiles.

Together the two of them snuck their way outside, not sure if the man worked alone or not, just to come across an empty field. They were barely outside for a minute before police cruisers came skidding to a stop around them [Parrish and the Sheirff] and the pack members cars as well. They all came running out of their cars and rushing over towards the two of them, Stiles smiled tiredly at all of them and passed out in Derek’s arms.


	5. Poisoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A swallows multiple pills in an attempt to dull the effects of (insert ailment here), but they quickly find out that their pills have been swapped. Their murder made to look like an attempted suicide. This confuses/ worries the support characters until A’s tox-screen comes back to show what was actually ingested and a full investigation begins to take place as to who attempted to kill A."

Throughout the world, there are various types of herbs which could be used as a poison. Most of which Stiles had learned during a research binge a few years ago. Dextroamphetamine and Amphetamine are both used in almost all the prescription drugs nowadays, Stiles knew they were the main components of his Adderal.

He never thought he’d have to put that knowledge of poisons to use, especially not on himself.

It all started yesterday morning since the school was out for spring break and there wasn’t much going on in the supernatural department other than that man who’d kidnapped Derek and him a few weeks ago. Stiles was still sore anytime he moved. It was because of none of them, even those down at the station, couldn’t find out who this man was that Stiles decided it was time for him to do research. 

Something he’d  _ been  _ doing but he couldn’t focus.

Stiles shifted away from his desk, wincing as the cast around his leg smacked into it. Getting kidnapped was definitely not something he would recommend, especially if it came with broken bones. Sighing, Stiles reached over for his bottle of Adderal without taking his eyes off the thread article discussing the mysterious group of men in all black. He had a sneaking suspicion that the thread was about The Men In Black movie, but he figured it couldn’t sure to take a look. 

He was fine for a little while after taking his medication, but then he soon realized something was wrong. His vision began blurring around the edges and he could feel his breathing speed up without him even realizing it.

The sudden cramps in his stomach and disorientation he felt trying to get to the bathroom were what really clued him in. He tried thinking over what could've caused this, he hadn’t eaten anything new or anything he was allergic to, the only thing he could think of was taking his medication but Stiles knew for damn certain he only swallowed two pills.

Annoyed, yet also worried, Stiles struggled to get to his bed and grab his cell phone. It sort of felt as though he was having an out of body experience, and none of his limbs were quite willing to work with him. Somehow, he wasn’t even sure, he managed to get his cell phone and immediately dialed 911.

“911 operator, what is the emergency?”

Stiles licked his dry lips, “Ove...Overdoes.”

“Sir?”

“My prescription….overdose….” Stiles quickly muttered his address as he could feel his consciousness slowly seeping away from him.

,

,,

,,,

Stiles groaned, waking up coming swift and sudden causing him to wince as he felt pins and needles in his limbs. He tried lifting an arm to rub at his face but not only did his body feel like lead but someone quickly grabbed onto his arm and forced it down.

Stiles felt his heart skip a beat as the unknown person kept ahold of him.

“Shhh, it’s alright son. It’s just me.”

Stiles’ brows furrowed and slowly he opened his eyes, meeting his dad’s concerned ones, “What happened?”

Becoming a bit more aware, Stiles blinked away the blurred bits of his vision and looked around the room. The entire pack, literally everyone; Jackson included, were spread out throughout the hospital room asleep.

“You…” Sheriff Stilinski squeezed Stiles’ hand, “You overdosed on your Adderal kid, called 911 and everything. The EMT’s arrived just after one of my deputy’s found you having a seizure in your room.” 

Stiles couldn’t help feeling guilty at how stressed he’d made his dad but was secretly glad he wasn’t the officer to arrive on the scene.

“They...the doctors thought you tried….that you…” 

Stiles watched his dad cut himself off, seemingly unable to say the words, but then he realized what he was hinting at, “No! Dad no. Seriously no. I wouldn’t-I wasn’t-”

“I know.” Sheriff Stilinski smiled softly, “I know, which was why I bought them and had everything tested. “You only took your prescribed dose right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Because,” Stiles’ head snapped around as Derek suddenly sat up and crossed his arms over his chest, “Your dad had them run a tox-screen and an officer checked your medicine, apparently the pills you took were over three times what they originally were.”

“What does that mean?” Stiles struggled to push himself up in a seated position, but his dad simply shifted the bed for him, causing Stiles to shoot him a grateful look, “Did the pharmacy screw up? That wouldn’t make sense though, I’ve been taking from this bottle for weeks now!”

“Son,” Sheriff Stilinski traded a dark look with Derek, “There were signs of a break in the house, we tested and found fingerprints that didn’t belong to you or me on your medication.”

“Someone tried to kill me? And what, have it look like a suicide?” Seeing the others nod, Stiles snorted, “Not how I’d go about it but I guess it almost did the trick, huh?”

“This isn’t funny!” Scott who’d woken up a few minutes prior snapped, causing the others to realize he was awake. “You almost died Stiles! You’ve been out of it for two days now!”

Sighing Stiles slowly nodded his head, “Come on Scotty, you know me. I make jokes when I’m nervous. Any lasting damage? What exactly did I have?”

Knowing his son would find out one way or another, Sheriff Stilinski listed off, “Well, there was the seizure at the house, you’ve had a fever that only just broke. You had hallucinations on and off for a while there. There were uncontrollable shaking, and you had a rapid heart rate and tremors….Melissa said to keep an eye out for fatigue and muscle aches or weakness…”

“How…” Scott climbed up on the end of Stiles’ hospital bed and looked at him with puppy eyes, “How’re you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Stiles said bluntly, “Head hurts, I’m definitely sore, and stomachs cramping up.”

“I’ll get my mom.” Scott rushed out before he took off out of the room in search Melissa before anyone could say another word.

Seeing the worried/pinched look on his dad’s face had Stiles reaching out and gripping his forearm, “I’m okay. Dad, I promise I’m okay.”

“I...I know son.” Sheriff Stilinski leaned over and kissed Stiles on the forehead, “The investigations already underway. Tara’s tracking this guy's prints in the system and the moment we know who he is, he won’t know what hit him.”

Stiles grinned when Derek echoed his dad’s statement. Sure he was worried about someone apparently being out to kill him, plus they were able to break into his house unnoticed, but Stiles couldn’t help but grin seeing his dad and Derek agree on something.

Now if only he could get them to agree on getting him out of the hospital?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is one chapter that I'll definitely be making into its own story once October ends.


	6. Betrayed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You lied to me, to the team, you were on our side!” A says, clutching their bleeding gunshot to the stomach painfully in an attempt to stop the bleeding.   
> “I lied.” Was all B said, walking out of the cell, leaving A to bleed out.   
> (Or alternatively, this could be a false betrayal because B is just trying to fulfill their role as the bad guy to take down the main baddie - either way, so much angst - and maybe B could be the one sending medical supplies to A and sending anonymous tips to the team to get A rescued.)"

There’s an old saying about betrayal; It’s a slow moving poison, one which you cannot see, and cannot fight until it’s too late.

Out of everyone who he suspected capable of betraying the pack….he didn’t think it would be himself.

He didn’t think that out of a group brought together by the sheer madness of the world, that it would be him, the lowly human that betrayed the wolves.

,

,,

,,,

_ Icey fingers, their grip firm in unwavering belief, intent on masking what one should willingly give.  _

_ Sharp, pained gasp as the ultimatum is given.  _

_ Only one decision to affect them all...Stiles knew what choice he had to make. _

,

,,

,,,

Stiles stood there, the room suffocating him with the silence that had fallen over it. He watched impassively as his Alpha, as Derek slowly lifted his hand and gently touched his stomach, staring down in shock as his fingers came away red as the blood leaving his body.

“You know,” Stiles began, willing his hand not to shake as he lowered the pistol down to his side, “Out of everyone, you were the one who I thought would’ve realized the truth.”

For one painstakingly long second, Stiles saw the confusion, fear, and agony fill Derek’s eyes before it was all quickly pushed back to the far reaches of his mind.

“You lied to me...to the team, you were on our side!” Derek roared his eyes flashing red, fingers clutching at the gaping hole in his lower abdomen. An attempt to stem the bleeding of his gunshot wound. A wound he couldn’t truly wrap his head around as being real. “I thought you said you would stay by our side?! That you would help us because that’s what pack was for?!”

Stiles began shaking his head but Derek continued talking, not even bothering to try and dig the bullet casing out of himself as all of his attention was on Stiles, “What about the others? Stiles? What about the pack? About Scott...or your dad? Huh?! Answer me! YOU SAID WE WOULD STICK TOGETHER!”

“I lied.” Was all Stiles said, walking away careful not to let his magic waver? The rune painted on his chest was meant to cloak any to all emotions, but Stiles didn’t want to risk it by staying any longer than necessary. It was simply because he hadn’t specified what he lied about that he knew his heart stayed steady, there were a lot of lies he’s told over the years Derek, however, didn’t know that. He couldn't stand being in that room any longer, as Derek continued yelling at him, bleeding out in front of him.

It wasn’t as though the bullet was filled with wolfsbane, it was just a regular gun he’d borrowed from one of the covens men so Stiles knew Derek would heal, but that didn’t make shooting him any less painful. 

“STILES!” 

Hearing the raw emotions in Derek’s voice as he roared was what made Stiles paused before he was entirely out of his hearing range. Despite knowing it would only ruin everything he sacrificed thus far….Stiles whispered, “I’m sorry but...Please.  _ Please _ trust me.”

Stiles flung open the metal door and took off running into the night, carrying with him nothing other than the clothes on his back. He couldn’t stay. Beacon Hills was no longer his own, nor was he welcomed here any longer. It was only because he knew that the coven had warded the cell that he used his cell phone one last time to leave his dad a voicemail, 

“Hey...uh, hey dad. Listen,” Stiles cleared his throat, “I...I know that things have been odd in the town lately, but...Derek he’s-he’s in some sort of underground cell, the entrance is a trap door a few miles out in the preserve from the old hale property….I need you to know that no matter what happens, I love you okay? You’re literally-” Stiles cut himself off to take a deep calming breath as his voice became strained, “You’re the best dad I could’ve ever asked for, and a hell of a Sheriff too. I...I’m going dad...I...I can’t stay. Don’t doubt for a second that I love you alright? Keep...keep an eye out for everyone for me? Don’t, uh, don’t forget to take care of yourself though. Love you, dad.”

With his breath coming in fast, short gasps of air Stiles quickly hung up, took out his battery and smashed his cell phone. Squeezing his eyes shut Stiles hunched over and whimpered as the other rune, the one that had been forcibly carved into his lower back began to burn. The pain traveling throughout his entire body, consuming him whole. It was enough to send him to his knees, his hands reaching around to claw at his skin despite knowing that it would do nothing for him.

The coven was coming, and he needed to run.

With an unknown burst of energy, Stiles had one last thing he needed to do before he could leave. He focused on himself, on his center, allowing his spark to bask in the warm feeling of his pack bonds within him. Stiles slowly caressed each thread with his magic, memorizing the important people in his life; Scott, Derek, Erica, Isaac, Boyd, Allison, Lydia, Danny, Jackson, Parrish, and even Peter. He counted the thick threads one by one, as he cut them in half. The last one to go is not Scott but Derek. 

As an Alpha, Derek’s pack bond thread was much thicker than any of the others, Stiles knew it would hurt, and that all of them could feel him denying the pack bonds, breaking them. That once they were gone, it would be near impossible for any of them to ever reform, not that Stiles planned on doing that. Derek’s was the most painful to break. Stiles knew he blacked out for a moment, but once he regained awareness, he hurried to his feet and took off running once more.

Not knowing if he could ever stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have too. This chapter has to become its own story no matter what. It was so hard only letting this stay around a thousand or so words. I need to make this into a story and I need to write as much angst and then fluff as humanly possible! This Whumptober idea is giving me way too many TW ideas then I should probably attempt at the moment.....oh well.


	7. Kidnapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been three weeks since A was last seen on the job, everyone was feeling the disappearance and was growing increasingly frustrated because they had no idea where they went. However one day they get a call about someone walking around town, covered in blood. Once sent to investigate, they introduce themselves to this person, offering to help, when they say their name the figure looks up in surprise. The support characters are also in shock for it is A standing before them, beaten to shit. Then A collapses there and then and has to be rushed to the hospital, not quite the reunion everyone wanted but a reunion all the same.

It had been three weeks since Stiles Stilinski had been reported missing and a search party formed. Three whole weeks of the pack searching, some less willing than others but all of them becoming worried by the lack of evidence that Stiles had even been there, to begin with.

Out of all of them, the only ones who believed that Stiles betrayed them had been Isaac, but even then he had explained that it just didn’t make sense. After all, Stiles was the most loyal out of them all. None of them truly believed that Stiles betrayed them, Derek didn’t believe it the moment Stiles had asked him to trust him, and it was the voicemail he’d left the Sheriff that cemented the idea he didn’t want to leave.

It was Lydia who suggested that perhaps the coven had threatened Stiles or forced him to leave. Jackson offhandedly commented that he was probably kidnapped, which caused Derek to growl at him when a pale-faced Sheriff overheard his comment.

Scott could barely control his shifts now unless Allison was constantly by his side. 

Chris Argent had reached out to other hunters, making sure not to mention who he was or who exactly it was that he was looking for, while Peter was using old Hale family connections to learn more about the coven and Sheriff Stilinski formed patrols with his deputy’s to search for any signs of Stiles.

It wasn’t until Saturday night, exactly four weeks since he’d gone missing, a whole month, when a call came in that a man was wandering around town, covered in blood. Sheriff Stilinski and Jordan Parrish arrived on site just to find out that another man had appeared and whisked the man away. 

“Who do you think it was?” Peter asked, lounging in the lone recliner in the loft. 

Recently, every pack night involved the Sheriff, and sometimes Parrish.

“We don’t know,” Sheriff Stilinski sighed, “My men tried looking through some nearby security cameras only they all shut down the moment we were close to the timeframe the man supposedly showed up.”

Jackson’s phone chirped, he took it out and everyone could see his confusion, “Danny found Stiles?”

“What?” Sheriff Stilinski stood up straight, “What do you mean, Danny found my son?”

“Um,” Jackson held his phone out for the elder Stilinski to take, “He says they’re at the hospital….he found Stiles downtown.”

“Myson has been missing for an entire month, and you mean to tell me he’s been downtown this entire time?!” Sheriff Stilinski strode over to the loft door, calling over his shoulder, “I’m going to see my son.”

It was decided that they would all go to see Stiles, but for now, the Sheriff and Scott were the only ones to head to the hospital, with Jackson tagging along to speak with Danny who he claimed sounded panicked over his texts.

The moment they arrived at the hospital, Melissa was waiting for them near the front desk and she made sure to leave them down the hall away from any people who may have been listening in. 

“Mel-” Melissa held up her hand and cut the Sheriff off.

“Noah, let me speak.”Melissa took a deep breath in, held it and let it go, “You ‘ve heard about that strange man wandering around with blood on him, right?” Seeing all of their nods, Melissa continued, “One of your friends, Danny, he...he realized who it was and calmed him down enough to bring him to the hospital.”

“Melissa, what are you saying?” Sheriff Stilinski crossed his arms over his chest.

“Noah, it was Stiles. That young man wandering around was Stiles.”

Realizing what his mom was saying, Scott reached out and gripped the Sheriff’s shoulder, “Mom...how...how badly hurt is he?”

“That’s just it….practically all of the blood isn’t his.” Melissa lowered her voice, “He has a few broken ribs, a slight concussion, his wrist is sprained, and he won’t speak with anyone.”

“Can I…” Sheriff Stilinski swallowed, “Can I see him?”

Melissa was shaking her head before the Sheriff could finish speaking, “No. Not yet, he’s still looking at by Dr. Westley. I promise I’ll come to get you once he’s finished alright? Danny is already in the waiting room if you want to go sit with him?”

Jackson rushed over to his friend who looked shaken up, while Scott and the Sheriff followed at a much slower pace, taking in everything Melissa had told them so far. After a few minutes had passed in a awkward silence, Sheriff Stilinski asked Danny to tell him how he found Stiles.

“Well,” Danny bit his lip before continuing, “He...uh, I was downtown at that bakery that only sells homemade apple croissants? I was picking up an order for my mom when some people started yelling outside, I was just going to stay inside until whatever was going on died down...but then I saw who everyone was rushing away from. The store manager called the police but I knew it was Stiles so I went over to him but…”

Sheriff Stilinaki nodded for Danny to continue and Jackson wrapped his arms around his friend’s shoulders.

“He didn’t recognize me, like at all.” Danny looked Sheriff Stilinski in the eyes, “I kept calling his name but he just stared at me. It wasn’t until I introduced myself and told him where he was that he actually moved. Even if it was just to, uh, just to follow me back to my car. He kept muttering….he kept saying that everything was okay now. That the pack was safe? I don’t, I don’t know what that means though.”

When Scott laughed, the other’s all stared at him in shock of how bitter it had sounded, “He was thinking about us….of course.”

“McCall.” Jackson shook his head, not saying anything else.

“Sorry, just…” Scott stood up, “I’m going to call Derek, and check in with my mom real quick…”

Sheriff Stilinski didn’t address any of them as he stood up and walked away, worrying Jackson enough that he sent a quick text to Derek as well, asking someone to keep an eye on the Sheriff if he left the hospital.

They all just hoped nothing else could go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up working longer shifts this week and with school as well I wasn't able to upload chapter 7 on time but chapter 8 should be done by midnight, if not then sometime tomorrow!


	8. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A’s fever goes so high they start to hallucinate. Queue angst filled ramblings, them possibly trying to escape (maybe thinking they’re still captured) Fever induced hallucinations - perhaps them rambling about how much they love the people in their life while said people just sit there, hold their hand, dabbing their forehead and arms with a cool cloth while trying not to break down at the thoughts flowing out of A. Or to add even more angst: A could be hallucinating a dead relative or even an enemy they think is out to get them."

His dad was at the station and Stiles had managed to fool him into thinking everything was alright, only Stiles’ fever had gone past the point of being a small time cold and instead had escalated to where he knew it was just a matter of time before he started hallucinating. There wasn’t a second passing by where he didn’t feel as though he was outside during a heatwave.

Groaning, Stiles looked over at the empty water bottle on his dresser. He did finish that bottle, but he knew it’d been a while since he actually drank anything, he just didn’t have the energy to get up and grab something.

He tried sitting up only the moment he lifted his head off his pillow, the room started spinning and he got nauseous. Which was why he decided to go and try to move was a _very_ bad idea.

Huffing slightly, Stiles quickly kicked off his covers, the amount of sweat he was coated in grossed him out. It didn’t help that the smell was making his stomach do somersaults. Getting his feet over the side of the bed left him panting, trying to catch his breath.

“Seriously?” Stiles muttered.

Gritting his teeth as he knew what was to come, Stiles moved slowly, focusing on first sitting up and then getting to his feet.

A process that was a lot harder then it had to be.

Stiles eyed his desk chair and decided to head to that first, once he was close enough he grabbed onto it and used it to support himself until he made it to his bedroom door. After that, it was just a matter of not falling as he then made his way down the hall to the bathroom.

He would’ve taken a shower normally but all he could think about was how hot he was and how he needed to cool off and soon.

So he climbed into the shower with his pajamas still on.  Sighing in content, Stiles sat down in the shower and let the cool streams of water hit his overheated skin.

,

,,

,,,

Stiles didn’t show up to the pack meeting, out of all people, Derek had ordered Isaac and Jackson to go find him. Neither of whom was too keen on the idea of going to the Stilinski’s household or being stuck in close quarters with one another.

Jackson drove them both, a tense silence filling the car the entire way. Jackson couldn’t hold back is scoff as Isaac immediately scaled up the tree by Stiles’ bedroom window. Isaac glared down at him but otherwise ignored him as he slid open the window and made his way inside.

Rolling his eyes, Jackson followed after Isaac, silently hoping that Stilinski’s neighbor wasn’t watching from her windows.

Their eyes widened seeing the clear board in Stiles’ room, filled with various facts on the murders that had popped up around town, none of them knew what creature it was they only realized that it couldn’t have been a human doing the killings.

Jackson whistled low in his throat, “Guess Stilinski’s been busy.”

“Where is he?” Isaac muttered, tilting his head to the side as he concentrated his hearing.

Jackson focused on his hearing as well, startling when he finally heard another heartbeat in the house, a heart that was beating overly fast.

He just hoped it wasn’t the Sheriff having a heart attack.

“Down the hall,” Jackson said.

Isaac ignored him and moved the oddly placed desk chair out of his way as he stalked down the hallway. They both came to a stop outside what they assumed was the bathroom as they could hear the shower running on the other side of the door.

It was the sound of someone sobbing that had Jackson breaking down the door as the both of them rushed into the small bathroom. The sight that greeted them was unnerving.

Stiles was sitting in the tub still wearing his clothes with the shower raining down on him and shivering. Stiles had his knees drawn up to his chest with his head lowered, his shoulders shook with the force of his cries.

Hesitantly, Isaac stepped towards Stiles while Jackson shut off the shower.

“Stiles?” Isaac called out, stopping a foot or so away, “Stiles?”

“Come on Stilinski, get up.” Jackson reached out and touched Stiles’ shoulder.

The reaction was immediate.

Stiles’ heart rate shot up, as did his head as he scrambled back away from Jackson with a horrified look on his face.

“No-nonono…” Stiles shook his head, pressing back against the tub/shower wall as though needing to get further away. “G-Get away.”

Isaac and Jackson shared alarmed glances before Jackson motioned for Isaac to do something.

Isaac slowly stepped forwards, “Stiles? Stiles, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry.” Stiles’ voice cracked, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”

Isaac own heart accelerated as Stiles’ words reminded him of a night years ago when his dad first laid his hands on him, “Stiles it’s okay.”

“Noooo,” Stiles moaned, “...all my fault….I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Stilinski snap out of it!” Jackson barked, unnerved by how Stiles was acting.

Stiles flinched at Jackson’s tone, quickly jerking backward to get away but only managing to smack his head into the tile behind him.

Isaac rushed forwards and wrapped his hand around the back of Stiles’ head to cushion it in case he tried hitting it once more.

“Get away from me!” Stiles cried, his trembling limbs pushing weakly at Isaac’s chest, “ _Please_. Matka!”

Jackson mouthed the odd word to himself before climbing into the tub and crouching down in front of Stiles, “Stilinski, come on! You’re fine!”

“...Never hurt you, I never will. Obiecywać!” Stiles’ teeth were chattering so badly that he could barely speak properly, not that the other’s could understand him in the first place.

Jackson cursed under his breath and manhandled a shrieking Stiles over his shoulder and carried him out of the bathroom and back to what he knew was Stiles’ room. Feeling the heat radiating off of Stiles’ skin, Jackson shouted back to Isaac, “Find a thermometer!”

Stiles kept struggling, making Jackson almost drop him twice before Jackson finally made it back to Stiles room and sat him down on the desk chair.

“Don’t move!” Jackson quickly turned, rifling through the dresser in the room, Jackson grabbed underwear and a pair of sweats.

It was just as he finished changing a wildly struggling Stiles’ clothes that Isaac entered the room with a thick comforter and a thermometer.

It took the both of them reluctantly working together and a little over an hour to get Stiles to calm down enough to take his temperature.

“103.4” Isaac’s eyes widened.

Contemplating something which he refused to share with Isaac, Jackson stepped out of his sneakers, pulled off his jacket and slipped into Stiles’ bed, behind the lanky teen. Isaac stared at Jackson with wide eyes causing him to glare at him.

“Shut up.” Jackson snapped before turning towards Stiles who had tired himself out, “Your name is Stiles Stilinski, we are in your bedroom and I’m Jackson, that’s Isaac.”

Realizing what Jackson was doing, Isaac joined in, the both of them repeating the date, where they were at, who they were and what they were doing until Jackson felt Stiles relax in his arms.

Stiles twisted his head around and stared up at Jackson with a glazed gaze before shuffling down and curling up against Jackson’s chest. Isaac hesitated until Jackson rolled his eyes at him and pulled back the blankets invitingly before he too took off his shoes, jacket, scarf, and hat before climbing onto Stiles’ bed as well.

The three of them settled down, being lulled to sleep by each other's warmth and the sense of having pack nearby, completely unaware of their phones all going off with calls from the other pack members.


	9. Stranded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So you want your characters to be stranded, but how could that have happened? Here are a few suggestions:  
> \- Plane crash/emergency landing  
> \- The boats sinking so they have to get into a life raft  
> \- They could be left behind in a building after an evacuation,   
> \- for angst: they could be out in a desert and a sandstorm comes so everyone evacuates but doesn’t stop to check where A is until hours after (A could maybe fall down a hill/ ravine as they try to escape the storm and isn’t found until days later.)  
> \- Or maybe the villain could torture/ hurt them in some way they dump them next to the highway in the middle of nowhere - where transport rarely passes…"

The warehouse had long since been evacuated, the threat of having the building collapsed in on them was more than enough motivation to get the workers out.

Stiles only wished Chris and him had enough time to get out, only the moment they were within reach of the door one of the support beams came crashing down, keeping them from getting out. 

“Are you serious?” Stiles was well aware of how high his voice had gotten but was willing to ignore it, “You have got to be freaking kidding me.”

“It makes sense the ghost wouldn’t want us to leave.” Chris Argent stated, calm to the point where Stiles wanted to punch the older man just to see some other emotion than being calm.

“Out of all people,” Stiles began dryly, “Why were the two humans sent to deal with the ghost?!”

“You know why.”

And he did, Stiles knew it was because they weren’t as strong as a wolf, or a banshee, or a hellhound, if they were possessed then they wouldn’t be capable of as much damage. 

“Basically we’re stuck here til the freaking ghost leaves or the others show up…” Stiles muttered under his breath and he went about searching one half of the warehouse for another way out and Chris searched the other half. Once he’d finished, Stiles turned and began walking in Chris’ direction only he froze as a chill went down his spine.

**_Stiles._ **

Stiles could see Chris’ mouth moving, speaking to him but Stiles couldn’t hear a word. All he could hear was a voice coming from just over his shoulder.

**_Stiles, it’s coming. You need to run._ **

Stiles’ brow furrowed as he slowly spun in a circle, taking in his surroundings. “It’s coming.”

Stiles startled as a hand wrapped around his forearm, his snapped over to see Chris suddenly standing right next to him, and Stiles wondered when the man had gotten so close.

Chris shook him none too gently, “Stiles! Stiles, what’s coming?”

**_You’re too late._ **

The mere thought of the ghost being there caused his body to freeze in terror. They didn’t have to deal with ghosts in Beacon Hills before, he wasn’t sure how to deal with this situation.

**_Stiles Run. RUN!_ **

Stiles blinked at him in confusion, “It’s already here.”

“Wha-?” 

Stiles used his weight to push Chris out of the way just as all the windows in the warehouse shattered, the glass flying inwards at them. Chris was yelling but Stiles ignored him and yanked on Chris’s arm until he followed him to a corner, by some crates left untouched. 

The sounds echoing throughout the warehouse were enough to give Stiles the beginning of a headache and make his eye twitch. 

**_Protect him, it’s after him._ **

Stiles forced Chris onto the ground as he crouched over him, staring at the glass shards as they all spun with the force of a tornado. Chris was pushing at his chest, trying to get him to move but Stiles stayed where he was.

He had to keep Chris safe, he knew what it was like to lose a parent and Allison had already lost her mother, Stiles didn’t want her to lose her father as well. She didn’t deserve to go through that, and Chris didn’t deserve to be possessed or killed by some sort of vengeful spirit.

The wind in the warehouse picked up speed, Stiles shivered and watched with wide eyes as a figure suspended appeared amidst the glass only to vanish just as quickly. The wind died down immediately, however, instead of falling to the floor the glass shards all turned and Stiles ducked his head down, staring into Chris’s shocked face as the shards came flying at them. Crashing into the crates, into the wall, and falling down on top of the both of them.

Chris’s hands stopped pushing against his chest, instead, Stiles felt them reach up and cover the back of his head and his neck from the incoming glass. Chris was saying something, Stiles wasn’t sure why he couldn’t understand what he was saying, but his mind was elsewhere. 

The voice said the ghost was after Chris, and somewhat Stiles had seen, the ghost was young barely older than Derek possibly younger.

Stiles shifted slightly as the crates they hide behind shook, he was semi-worried that they would fall over on top of them. 

**_I’ll chase it away._ **

Stiles wanted to scream, tell whoever the voice belonged to not to go near the ghost, to stay away. Only his voice was lodged in his throat, unwilling to escape and warn whoever the voice belonged to and unable to thank them either.

There was nothing else hitting against his body, the warehouse was filled with a wary sort of silence that made one want to hide until someone told them it was safe to come out. Stiles hesitantly pushed himself up, still covering Chris but not laying flush against the man.

Something that will embarrass him later, but for now Stiles was just glad that as he looked down at Chris there were no injuries bar the nasty cuts on his hands and forearms. “Are you okay?” 

Chris was glaring at him as he pushed himself up into a seated position and Stiles would’ve fallen over had Chris not reached out and steadied him. Stiles wasn’t sure how to feel about him practically sitting in Chris’s lap, it was definitely mortifying, so he shuffled back so that he was sitting in front of him instead. 

“What the hell was that?!”

Stiles stared at Chris, not really understanding why the man was so angry, “What?”

Chris grabbed Stiles’ arm and pulled while pushing with the other so that Stiles turned around with his back to Chris. Stiles hissed as fingers prodded at his back. 

It was easy to ignore the pain when they were being attacked and when he was worried about Chris but not that he wasn’t distracted the pain was slowly taking over his senses.

“We need to get you to the hospital.” Chris continued speaking but Stiles stopped paying attention as a voice whispered to him.

**_Good job Stiles._ **

Stiles smiled as he slumped back against Chris, unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more days until my birthday! I'm excited but also just want to spend the day writing...


	10. Bruises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A shows up on B’s doorstep, beaten black and blue, they collapse into B’s arms and B has to try and hug them / look after them even with the severe bruising, constantly fearing that every touch hurts…"

He’d been in the middle of working on his economics essay, silently cursing Coach Finstock, when his doorbell rings.

Again and again. 

Annoyed, Stiles quickly made his way downstairs and flung open the front door only to freeze in shock. Isaac was standing there on his doorstep, staring back at Stiles with wide and panicked eyes.

Stiles didn’t hesitate in pulling Isaac inside, he was startled when Isaac all but collapsed in his arms.

“Shit. Shit Isaac what the hell?!” Stiles yelped, struggling to hold the much taller teen up. 

Stiles dragged him the few feet to the couch and tried to gently lower him down onto it before he quickly ran back and shut the front door. After locking it, he ran back to Isaac’s side just to see him curled up on his side and gasping for air.

“Isaac?” Stiles whispered, “Damnit, Isaac I need you to concentrate on your breathing alright? Follow me.”

Stiles lifted Isaac’s hand, resting it over his heart counting aloud each heartbeat and each deep breath in willing Isaac to mimic him. Once Isaac calmed down, enough for Stiles to get him to sit up, Stiles sat as close as physically possible.

After a few moments passed, Stiles asked, “...Why aren’t you healing?”

He didn’t ask who hurt him, or why he came to him. It wasn’t important, not now at least. Although Stiles did know what he would find out one way or another and make sure the one who hurt Isaac got what was coming to him.

“I…” Isaac coughed, his throat dry and scratchy, “Inhaled Mountain Ash. N-Not...not a lot.”

Stiles eyes widened, “Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?!”

Isaac flinched away, curling in on himself and avoiding Stiles’ gaze. “...Sorry.”

“I’m not mad shit. I’m….okay I’m pissed but not at you, at whoever the fuck did this.” Stiles shook his head. “We need to get that crap outta you, I don’t know if you have any internal damage or anything!”

“I don’t.” Isaac grinned bitterly, “I would know.”

“That doesn’t mean this is okay!” Stiles snapped, “Damnit. Wait here.”

Stiles took off running upstairs, only tripping once and grinning to himself as he heard Isaac snort. A few months ago, after Deaton had oh so eloquently told him more about what a spark was, Stiles had….borrowed...a few things from the man’s office. 

One of those things being a book on herbs, poison’s, etc. Stiles knew for certain that there was a section dedicated to Mountain Ash, he’d read it before and knew it didn’t mention that it was capable of stopping werewolves from healing but maybe it could tell him how to get it out of someone. He just needed to reread it.

“Aha!” Spotting the book on his nightstand, Stiles quickly grabbed it and skipped to the section on Mountain Ash, reading it over quickly but carefully. He didn’t want to risk missing anything.

Realizing what he had to do, Stiles ran back downstairs and crouched down in front of a startled Isaac. 

“Stiles?” Isaac blinked, leaning back slightly as Stiles crowded into his personal space, “Wha-?”

“Sorry,” Stiles muttered, shuffling forward until he was kneeling in between Isaac’s legs, and forced the taller teens head down so that their foreheads were pressed together.

Isaac tried moving back but Stiles lifted his head and cupped Isaac’s neck to hold him in place. “Stop moving. This should help.”

Stiles briefly closed his eyes. According to Deaton and everything he’s read on Sparks, in order for his magic to work, he had to believe it would. Which is why Stiles began chanting inside his head repeating,  _ This will heal him. This will get rid of the Mountain Ash. _

Stiles kept repeating it, over and over again. Stiles supposed it was in situations like this that the saying “Tell yourself something enough times and you’ll start to believe it,” was actually true.

When Isaac gasped loudly and flinched under his grasp Stiles wanted nothing more than to open his eyes and see what was happening, but something told him that he had to keep up his concentration otherwise his magic wouldn’t work. 

Stiles could feel his magic working, the warm electric feeling squirming beneath his skin, itching to be let loose but Stiles made sure to hold it in, even as he felt his energy draining away from him the more he fought for control. After what felt like forever, Stiles blearily blinked his eyes open, briefly meeting Isaac’s gaze before he found himself slumping forward against Isaac’s chest.

“S-Stiles? What the hell was that?!” 

Stiles snickered quietly under his breath at how high-pitched Isaac’s voice had gone, “Had to get the Mountain Ash out of you….feel better?” 

Stiles shuffled backward on his knees to get a good look as he looked Isaac over, searching for the sickly vibrant bruises marking the wolf’s face and arms, only to see them gone. 

“Good.” Stiles murmured. 

“What...what did you do?” Isaac asked hesitantly, almost as though he wasn’t sure if he actually wanted to know the answer.

“Used my Spark,” Stiles struggled to push himself to his feet and climb up next to Isaac on the couch, “Got the Mountain Ash out of you.”

“Spark? What is that? Where did the Mountain Ash go?” Isaac quickly reached out and grabbed Stiles shoulder to keep him from toppling off the couch.

“Uh, it’s like magic? Inside of me? I don’t know, it’s magic based off of belief, I don’t know where it went, I just made it go away.” Stiles grinned at Isaac in thanks before he made himself comfortable on the couch. 

“W-”

Stiles quickly cut Isaac off, “Can we save the interrogation for later? Same with you telling me what really happened? I’m exhausted, magic takes a lot of energy. The energy which I plan on getting back now.”

Stiles twisted around so that he was sitting flush up against Isaac’s side, and closed his eyes, “Hmm. Remotes next to you on the end table. Put on a movie or whatever.”

Isaac was tense, but after a few minutes had passed during which Stiles’ breathing evened out as he fell asleep, Isaac slowly relaxed back into the couch. Curling up sightly with Stiles’ head on his chest, Isaac snatched the remote off the table and turned on The Avengers. 

Their issues could wait until another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a day late, and I have to work so today's chapter will be posted sometime tomorrow with tomorrows update!


	11. Hypothermia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A’s been beaten and left in a harsh environment where temperatures drop dramatically during the night. They have to make their way back to the closest highway, slowly freezing, bleeding out and becoming increasingly dehydrated and exhausted. Also: with no phone and no means for a fire, navigating the dark becomes increasingly more difficult, especially when they risk unconsciousness by stopping for the night…   
> (Bonus points for rain/ a scene where A is rushed into the emergency room, wrapped in too many blankets to count to try and raise body temperature.)"

He didn’t know what to do.

If the time on his phone was still working, the entire screen was cracked, then it was almost two in the morning, and no matter how far he ran (stumbled more like), Jackson couldn't find anybody. He couldn’t even call one of the others seeing as his cell phone had no service and wouldn’t connect to anything. The thick snow on the ground made it impossible for him to track anyone’s scent, he wasn’t even sure if he was still in Beacon Hills. He figured with the werewolf abilities he had then the cold wouldn’t bother him, but he supposed since he’d been outside with nothing more than his pajama pants and a tank top the freezing temperature was bound to get to him. Especially since he hadn’t drunk or eaten anything.

The witches came out of nowhere. They, thankfully, weren’t the same coven that had gone after Stilinski but Jackson knew from the looks on Peter and Chris Argents’ faces that they were just as dangerous, if not more. There was around seven of them traveling together, Jackson wasn’t sure when they arrived at Beacon Hills but their presence was impossible to ignore now.

It was why he made sure Stilinski wasn’t around any of them when they attacked. Derek’s howl had woken him up and Jackson didn’t hesitate to take off running towards the preserve in nothing bar the pajamas he had on. He arrived just as the fight broke out, McCall had yelled something at him about hexes but Jackson stopped paying attention. One of the witches had a weird glowing sphere in her hand and she’d tossed it at Stilinski, who wasn’t even looking her way.

Jackson barreled towards them and pushed Stilinski out of the way only for the sphere to hit his back and Jackson could physically feel it burst open and wrap around him. It was freezing to the touch but the moment it connected with his skin it felt as though someone had lit him on fire.

He’d woken up in a snow pile, not even sure when he’d lost consciousness, with a searing pain between his shoulder blades and a numbing sensation in his limbs. His bare feet stung, and the metallic smell of iron in the air told him that he was bleeding from somewhere. To make matters worse, his throat hurt like hell from how many times he’d tried howling for one of the others to come to find him, and wasn’t sure if he could keep it up. 

…. _ Unless they didn’t want to find him? _ It wasn’t a secret that none of the pack got along with him, he knew he’d been an asshole to all of them but he’d been trying to change that.

He thought he changed that.

“F-!” Jackson’s eyes widened as he tripped over god knows what and landed on his knees. The motion jarring the wound on his back and causing dots to float in front of his eyes.

Eyes clenched shut, Jackson stayed where he was and tried to focus on his breathing. He had to have been walking for a few hours at least, only he was still in these damned woods. He hadn’t seen even a hint of civilization being nearby.

He wasn’t healing.  _ Why wasn’t he healing? _

Jackson couldn’t help but feel as though his situation was ironic. The outcast of the pack forced somewhere with no way of contacting any of the others who probably didn’t even want to find him. More than likely none of them even noticed that he was missing. The only one who probably would realize he was gone and truly care would be Danny, but Danny didn’t know about what really went on in Beacon Hills.

The biting cold had long since faded to a sense of numbness taking over his body, it had gotten to the point where he wasn’t sure if he could get back up again even if he wanted too. Blearily, he opened his eyes, _ when had he even shut them _ , and realized he had fallen to the point that he was laying in the snow. 

He knew it was bad that he didn’t even feel cold anymore.

He couldn’t feel much of anything other than how tired he was.

Jackson watched the snowflakes drifting through the air around him. The winds had died down, and the scenery looked….peaceful. It was beautiful really. He hummed slightly under his breath, he could just imagine the rest of the packs' howls in the distant. Perhaps Stilinski would even trip and get a faceful of snow and start whining about how cold it was.

Frowning, Jackson realized that he  _ could  _ hear the pack howling and Stilinski cursing under his breath.

“Jackson!”

He flinched as Derek’s roar sounded way to close to be comfortable on his ears.

There were hands grabbing at him, lifting him up and someone was speaking to him. Jackson jerked back as someone forced his eyes open. He was staring up into Stilinski’s face.

“He’s not healing? What the hell? Why isn’t he healing?!”

If he were more lucid, Jackson would’ve asked Stilinski since when did he care? He groaned as someone lifted him up, he had a brief moment to feel mortified as he realized whoever picked him up was holding him in a mockery of a bridal position.

It was too dark out for him to see much even with his werewolf eyes, something he realized with a jolt that he couldn’t even feel. He couldn’t sense his wolf lurking beneath the surface, the only thing that had stopped him from feeling truly alone anymore.

The moment was short lived as he lost consciousness before he could curse out whoever had picked him up or panic over not being able to sense his wolf. Voices kept screaming at him, and someone kept slapping at his cheek, someone even pressed down on where he knew the wound on his upper back was but he didn’t feel any pain. Only coldness throughout his entire body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the prompt for October 11, I'm three days behind because it was my birthday and I've been busy with work. I should be able to get caught up by the end of this week! Also, I got a tattoo! My first one!


	12. Electrocution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "While running routine maintenance, a fault in the system causes A to be heavily electrocuted, this results in them being thrown across the room and into a wall, hitting their head and causing serious electrical burns. However; was it an accident?"

Isaac wasn’t sure why they had chosen him out of everyone else in the pack to work on shutting down the bank's electricity. Even Stiles would have been a better choice, he would’ve known what to do, or Argent at least.

However, he knew he wouldn't hesitate, not now when the others were counting on him playing his part so that they could get Erica and Boyd out and away from the Alpha pack. Gritting his teeth, Isaac waited until his phone lit up with a notification from Derek.

It was “go time”.

Isaac moved towards the large panels on the wall and used his claws to rip it off. Some of the wiring tearing apart and sending sparks off near his fingers. Isaac jerked his hands back, but quickly reached out once more knowing that he couldn’t stop, not now.

Stiles had taken him off to the side earlier and explained what he had to do, it was a matter of cutting a few wires that shouldn’t have any charge to them except when plugged in. Taking a deep breath in, holding it and slowly exhaling, Isaac grasped three of the thick wires in his hands with his sharp nails poking them at the top. 

In one swift movement, he plunged his nails into the wires and pulled as hard as he could to separate them from the main control.

Isaac yelled as an unbearable pain shot through his entire body before he found himself knocked off of his feet and flying backward into the wall on the opposite side of the room. The blow to his head left him disoriented and confused. He could barely get to his hands and knees without wanting to revisit everything he’d eaten thus far in the day. 

There were marks going up and down his arms, he knew what they were, he just wasn’t sure why they were there. Stiles and he had gone over the information on the bank multiple times in order to make sure they did everything right. He  _ knew  _ that he’d grabbed the right wires. 

Biting his lip, Isaac stood and stumbled back until his back hit the wall, attempting to regain his balance. His head was pounding, his vision messed up and hearing all sorts of wanky. It felt as though he wasn’t in full control of his body, and that scared him more than he would’ve liked.

Erica was unpredictable. Isaac wasn’t sure how to feel about her besides the constant teasing and hair ruffles, she was always pushing into his personal space demanding he come to watch a movie with her. She treated him as though he were her little brother, one that needed attention 24/7.

Boyd was somewhere safe. He’d always stay towards the back of the group, never starting unnecessary drama as Erica did or always talking like Stiles. He wasn’t as gruff as Derek, he didn’t scare him like Peter, He was like a cousin that always watched over you and made sure you were alright. Boyd was safe to be around and Isaac wanted to feel that sense of comfort and security again. He’d gotten used to it in the short time that they had all been together, and he missed it. He missed both of them. 

Derek missed them too, even if he didn’t say so with words.

It was the possibility of losing the two other Beta’s of the Pack that Isaac forced himself to keep moving. He could feel his body beginning to heal itself. He knew he wouldn’t be in pain for much longer.

He was used to pain, emotional and physical, he could handle a few burns until they went away on their own. Or even if they scarred, he could deal with that later on after Erica and Boyd were safe.

Isaac slowly made his way to the door and down the hall. He could hear the other’s on the other side of the building, fighting members of the Alpha pack, he just hoped he could get there in time before it was too late for any of them.

He was worried that he couldn’t hear much of what was going on, only snarls and the sounds of someone being hit or thrown around sounds that he had sworn long ago he wouldn’t surround himself by. The idea of going against a pack of all Alpha’s terrified him, especially since they were made Alphas by killing off the rest of their packs. 

He trusted Derek….but only to a certain extent. 

He knew that Scott and somehow even Stiles wouldn’t let Derek kill any of them, but Isaac knew that depending on others to save you would only result in him getting hurt in the end. He could run….only that’s what Erica and Boyd tried to do, and the Alpha pack had them held as prisoners for who knows how long. 

Sometimes he wished that he’d never accepted the bite, that he never met Derek, or Erica, or Boyd or Scott and Stiles. That he never agreed to join Derek’s pack or to actively know about the supernatural world around him.

Sometimes he wished his dad was the only thing he had to worry about in his life.

With his dad, all he had to do was get out of the house whenever he was madder than usual, or if he was locked up again then he could just stop. He could just stop thinking for a while and not realize that he was in a freezer box or that his life sucked. 

Being abused by his dad or constantly paranoid about the next big bad that could kill him.

He wasn’t sure which was worst. Only this was his life now, he couldn’t just leave now, not when he was actually needed for once in his life. Isaac didn’t want to abandon any of them. Somehow, without his consent, they had all become the family he wished he had all his life.


	13. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " “Stay.” A mumbles tiredly, holding onto B’s hand. B takes this as an invitation to carefully climb into A’s (hospital) bed and stay the night with them so they feel safe. "

Almost an entire week, it had been almost an entire week since Jackson was found and rushed to Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. He’d only been missing for twelve hours, but once Peter and Chris Argent convinced the witches to reopen the portal that sent Jackson away, the entire pack went through searching for him. The Sheriff, Melissa McCall, and Deaton were left on the other side to keep watch.

They couldn’t find him until the winds had died down and Derek smelt Jackson’s blood. Even then, no matter what they said or did, none of them could keep Jackson awake. 

It was the odd way Jackson stared at all of them that haunted them for days afterward. The fact that somehow or some reason Jackson wasn’t letting himself heal bothered all of them as they couldn’t convince him to heal himself any of the times one of the pack was there when he was conscious.

Peter had even threatened him but that didn’t work.

Jackson barely spoke to any of them and refused to eat much either. It was only Danny and Stiles of all people who could convince him to eat at least a little bit.

“Stay,” Jackson mumbled, his exhaustion apparent as he could barely keep his eyes open.

Danny forced a smile on his face. The entire time, ever since Jackson first arrived at the hospital and Stiles called him, Jackson would always seek Danny out and ask him to stay. It seemed like he didn’t remember Danny promising to stay any other time he’d woken up and it was starting to worry him.

No one would even tell him why Jackson couldn’t lay on his back, there were blood-soaked bandages in between his shoulder blades, or how he somehow had the beginning stages of hypothermia despite there not being any snow in Beacon Hills. Not knowing what was going on with his best friend honestly pissed him off, and the only one who seemed to understand how Danny felt was Stiles.

Stiles who herded the others all away from Jackson’s hospital room and convinced Nurse McCall to let him stay past visiting hours. Stiles who constantly visited to check up on Jackson and would bring Danny food that he claimed was better than the hospital muss. 

Jackson’s grip on his hand tightened, almost to the point of being painful, and Danny realized he never responded.

“You can’t get rid of me,” Danny whispered, taking Jackson still holding onto him as an invitation.

Hesitantly, worried that he may do more harm than good, Danny forced Jackson to move over on the hospital bed. Once he deemed that there was enough room for another person to fit, Danny climbed up onto the bed and laid down by Jackson’s side.

He was definitely surprised when Jackson shuffled forward and buried his face into Danny’s neck, inhaling deeply before sighing in contentment.

The odd behavior was definitely something Danny had filed away as something to confront Jackson about later on, once he was healed. Nurse McCall was oddly concerned when she checked on Jackson, Danny wasn’t sure why. 

The hypothermia was healing nicely, it was just the wound on his back was taking its time. An infection had set in earlier in the day and Danny knew it was bad, but Nurse McCall’s reaction was worrying.

When Danny confronted Stiles about it, the teen made a pained noise and gestured towards his cell phone before having to leave as the group of “friends” had called for Stiles to leave with them. Almost two hours later Stiles texted him, Danny wasn’t sure how he’d gotten his number and told him that Jackson was supposed to heal faster then he was, and that he’d explain better once Jackson woke up.

If he woke up.

None of them mentioned the possibility of Jackson staying in his dream-like state, never fully appearing lucid.

Sighing, Danny wrapped his one arm around Jackson so that his friend could use it as a pillow, and the other he laid over his own stomach with his fingers a hairs breath away from Jackson. 

Jack shifted slightly and his breathing hitched.

That was the only warning Danny had before Jackson’s eyes flew open revealing glowing iris’s, something completely inhumane. Startled, Danny froze where he was with his heart pounding away in his chest.

Jackson’s eyes narrowed before suddenly widening and turning back to their normal color. 

Danny was even more floored by how scared Jackson suddenly seemed.

“...Don’t leave me…” Jackson’s voice came out as a whisper, a silent plea.

Danny turned so that Jackson and he were facing each other on the bed, he wrapped his arms around Jackson’s frame and pulled him against his chest, “Idiot. I’m not leaving. I promised you I would stay.”

The fact that Jackson thought he would just up and leave...it hurt. Especially since they’ve been brothers years now, having known one another since they were little kids.

Jackson’s own arms raised and held Danny tightly, almost as though if he let go then Danny would vanish, as though Danny could be taken away from him like a toy from a misbehaving child.

“You have a lot of explaining to do,” Danny muttered after a minute or two had passed in silence.

“I know.”

“Stiles offered to tell me what was going on once you were more lucid.”

“Did he?” Jackson sounded amused, and for some reason, it angered Danny.

“Yes. He did. Unlike you who has been lying to me all this damn time. You know Stiles visited you practically every day? He brought food and books and offered to help us get caught up on homework. He even got Coach to lay off!” Danny pulled back to glare at a sheepish looking Jackson.

“....why?”

“Because he cares.” Danny squeezed Jackson's shoulder, “We all do. So, hurry up and get better, alright?”

“Fine….now shut up and let me sleep.”

Danny rolled his eyes and laid back down, others may not know but Danny certainly knew how much Jackson loved cuddling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two uploads in one day! I have work soon and get off around ten so hopefully, I can write more later!


	14. Torture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A lays there in their dingy cell. Bleeding slowly, dehydrated and malnourished after months of endless physical and psychological torture. The Torturer and their henchmen left the facility days ago, so A is left in the dark, dingy cell, slowly suffocating and succumbing to bloodless and illness - a high fever playing painful hallucinations before them. When B and the team eventually arrive, will A believe its really them after months of being told no one was coming for them?"

Peter laid there in the dingy cell. The concrete floor cold against his bare feet and the rough texture of the walls biting into his back. Wolfsbane coated the shackled wrapped around his limbs, cutting into his skin and causing blood to fall.

The blood was sluggish as it slid between his fingers. Before his captures left, they gave him a parting gift of a knife to the side. He hadn’t seen or smelt them since then and according to the rise and fall of the sun, it’s been three days. Three days with no food and nothing to drink. 

Peter let out a bark of a laugh which jostled his side.

It was amusing to him, being captured by hunters who had no clue who he was or that they were trespassing on Argent/Hale/McCall territory. The fact that what was once the Hale’s territory had been split amongst three “packs” made him sneer in disgust. 

Peter eyes the shackled in disdain. If he wanted to escape then he needed to get out of them...though he couldn’t say he was still there due to lack of trying, he knew at least a month had passed since he’d been taken. A month during which he had tried and failed many times to escape.

He knew no one was coming for him. He had no pack. He hadn’t had one even before the fire all those years ago. Although he had loved his family, his wife and their unborn child, he was the odd one out, the lone wolf of their pack. 

He ruined any chances of forming a pack with his nephew the moment he killed his niece. No one was coming, no one would save him, and it was all his fault. Peter could feel his inner wolf howling, desperate for pack, for anyone to save him, to keep him from being caged like an animal until he succumbed to his wounds.

It was obvious he wouldn’t last much longer.

Having a wolfsbane infected wound had done wonders to his immune system. It was shot to hell, and the fever which he sported had him seeing hallucinations of his family. Of Laura yelling at him, of Talia saying how disappointed she was, of his wife calling him a monster.

Sitting there all alone with no one for miles and miles, after  _ years _ , Peter finally broke. Perhaps he had always been broken and it was only in solitude that he allowed himself to realize it. His eyes stung with unshed tears, a small keening noise escaping him. 

Perhaps it was time to stop running. 

Time to stop fighting death’s grasp when it’s come for him so many times already.

Peter relinquished his control over to his wolf, for the first time since he had woken up from his coma and wasn’t driven mad by a lust of revenge. It was rare for a werewolf to be able to transform entirely, the ability only given to those of Alpha status and born with the true blood of a werewolf. Peter had no right, yet for as long as he could remember, Talia had been jealous of his ability to shift into an actual wolf. 

The wolfsbane in his system burned as he shifted, causing Peter to scream as the feeling of once again burning alive took over his senses. The shackles fell away, as did his clothing, leaving behind a dark grey wolf, larger than a normal species with shining blue eyes.

The wolf tilted its head back and howled. The sound echoing off the walls and throughout the surrounding area outside, it gave way to the agony and the loneliness the wolf felt. He eyed the cell doors, the lack of food intake over the past month or so had left the wolf underweight, with its rib cage pressing painfully against His skin.

Slipping through the cell bars was easy enough. The stench of his captors as old as it may be, sent him scurrying away from that section of wherever he was being held. 

Somehow making his way outside, the wolf limbed away from the run-down building, it was semi-big, with over half of it collapsing in on itself. The wolf could hear others making their way towards him, their footfalls loud and clumsy. Wary of hunters, the wolf took off towards a bush, the thorns tugging at its fur as it wiggled its way underneath. 

He watched as a man who smelt familiar leaped into the clearing, his red eyes glowing brightly with a snarl on his lips. He smelt like pack, old and frayed but pack nonetheless. Somehow the wolf knew though, that their pack bond was not what it should’ve been of that of an Alpha and his Beta. 

Others entered the clearing, five more Beta’s, one tall and lanky with blond curls, a woman with blonde hair as well and an African American male as well as a Hispanic teen. The was another blond, but this one was further away from them all and was scowling heavily. They all had gold-rimmed eyes, shifted in their Beta forms searching the surroundings with keen eyes. Something otherworldly stood by the scowling Beta, in the back of the wolf’s mind he recognized the girl as a Banshee.

However, the wolf’s heart sped up as a  _ human  _ entered the clearing. A human how smelled strongly of Pack, of himself. The wolf wasn’t even aware it was moving until he had already taken off running towards the human.

The other’s began shouting, and the wolf could’ve sworn he heard the Alpha growling at him to stay back, but he didn’t care.

He wanted his pack. 

Surprisingly enough, the human didn’t smell of fear, other than yelping as the wolf barreled into him, the human was calm if not nervous. The wolf knocked the human down so that he was sitting on the ground, despite already coming up to the human's hipbone, the wolf wanted him to be seated so that he could drape himself across the human’s body. 

Scent marking him. One of the other wolves stepped closer, their intent on moving the human obvious in the way they eyed the pair. The wolf lifted it’s head in the pup’s direction and snarled, daring him to come any closer. They began speaking with one another, all of their voices raising, but the wolfs’ attention as on the human pinned beneath him. His heart was beating somewhat faster but still did not seem afraid. 

Instead, as the other’s argued, the human gently began carding his fingers through the wolf’s fur. Speaking softly, and asking if he was alright, why he was in this form and if he really was Peter.

The wolf gently nipped the human’s chin in response to the last question. The previous tension seemed to drain out of the human.

“Idiot...we thought you were dead.”

The wolf huffed as he settled down on top of the human. He needed his pack to help him heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for October 14th, I have four more prompts to fill and then I'm all caught up!


	15. Manhandling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That soft moment when A finally collapses into B’s arms, B gently maneuvers them so they can carry A to the closest medical facility.   
> or  
> Character A and B dragging C in between them into the emergency room, calling for help and leaving a trail of C’s blood along the floor."

Stiles and Derek were the only ones Peter allowed to get near him, even then Derek was only allowed near if Stiles was with him.

The others were all treated with disdain and avoided Peter like the plague. Stiles was slightly hysterical when he demanded that Derek explain why the hell Peter was a literal wolf, but the Alpha seemed just as baffled as the others.

Scott practically had an aneurysm everytime Peter stalked over to Stiles, still in his wolf form, and proceeded to scent mark him in front of all the others. Stiles wasn’t sure what the big deal was, but even Derek seemed bothered by it. Nothing they did could convince Peter to change back to his normal self, and it was when Stiles had a lap full of wolf that he noticed the blood.

Peter had a gash alongside his side and it wasn’t healing.

Stiles would like to say that he didn’t panic, but he really did. He yelled, startling the others, and made Scott call Deaton to get to the loft and look at Peter. Stiles’ agitation only fueled Peter’s and by the time Deaton made it to the loft, Peter was refusing to move, or even look at any of the others bars Stiles.

Deaton stared the at two of them with a calculating look on his face, it was a mixture of surprise and wariness. A look that made Stiles hesitant to go near the man, something which Peter’s wolf had picked up on.

The moment Deaton was within reach, Peter began snarling, and snapping his jaws at the druid and struggling against Stiles’ grip. 

“Whoa!” Stiles exclaimed, “Dude come on! Knock it off!”

Peter kept snarling, and scratching at the floor, putting gashes in the wood as he tried bucking Stiles off of him. 

When it looked like Peter was overpowering Stiles, and could hurt him in the process, Derek quickly strides over towards them and manhandled Peter’s wolf form onto its non-injured side. Peter tried to bite him but Derek flashed his Alpha eyes and snarled at the man while pressing down harder. Once the injury was visible enough Deaton, was quick and precise in his evaluation of Peter’s health.

Peter's wound needs stitches, and it was only because Stiles sat by Peters' head that the wolf didn’t attack Deaton as the druid took out a needle and some thread, once he began Derek had to hold the wolf down as well while Stiles rambled about random nonsense.

The random nonsense worked seeing as Peter stopped struggling and instead focused on Stiles who had begun talking about some of the supernatural creatures he’d been researching and how he wondered if they were real or not.

Not once throughout the events that transpired did anyone else from the pack dare move, or even seem to want to go near Peter. Scott was the only one who kept making low keening noise anytime it looked as though Stiles could be injured.

Before he left, Deaton promised to contact old acquaintances of his in order to find a way to turn Peter back to normal.

Something only Derek and Stiles seemed to want. Eventually, Derek sent all the others home, with Isaac deciding to spend the night at Scott’s house. Stiles barely made it to the loft doors before Peter tackled him to the ground and kept him from moving.

“Derek!” Stiles yelped, “Peter’s heavy, a little help here?!”

Derek races over to Stiles’ side and forcibly moved Peter off of him. Peter whines loudly and struggled against Derek’s grip.

Stiles watched the proceedings with wide eyes, his mind racing until it patched on a single piece of information he’d known for a while now.

“Shift.” Stiles blurted out, causing both Derek and Peter to pause in their wrestling.

“What?” Derek’s brows furrowed.

“You mentioned it a while ago that you could shift into a full Wolf form,” Stiles gestured excitedly, “Maybe if you shift then Peter will calm down and get used to you!”

The look on Derek’s face told Stiles exactly what the Alpha thought about that idea, thankfully he didn’t say a word.

Instead, Derek let go of Peter, who ran back towards Stiles and began stripping down to his underwear startling Stiles into burying his face into Peters’ fur. Stiles only dared to look up when something cold and slightly moist prodded his cheek. Stiles’ head snapped up to see a sleek black wolf crouching down on the floor next to him, even if the wolf was crouching Stiles knew it was still tall enough to come past his hips, closer maybe to his elbows.

“Heya Derek,” Stiles grinned as the wolf huffed at him, “Guess Peter’s more comfortable with you like this, huh?”

Stiles yelped as Derek suddenly nudged his head into Stiles’ side causing him to fall over onto Peter who had lain down.

“Dude!” 

Stiles coughed lightly as the wind was knocked out of him, Derek had moved so that he was draped across Stiles’ legs, and with Peter, underneath of him, Stiles felt oddly sleepy. He tried in vain a few more times to get Derek off of him, but as a wolf, he was just as bad with personal space as he was when he was human….well somewhat human.

Muttering under his breath, Stiles wiggled around a bit, ignoring the growls it had gotten him, and once he had his head laying more on Peter’s shoulders then his injured side Stiles closed his eyes.

If he woke up flustered and panicking as he realized instead of two large wolves he was now sandwiched between two naked men, then it was no one's business but his own. Even if Derek did blush and jerk away from him, while Peter laughed at the both of them.

Even if after that day he would wake up in his room with a wolf, sometimes two, in his bed then as he said, it was no one's business but his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is still manhandling in this, I just put my own twist on things. I'm so sorry that I haven't been able to update as much as I planned too. Or responding to comments, I'll try to respond soon! It's just I literally have been working the moment I get out of school and don't get done until around midnight.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Teen Wolf. Also, I am still working on the updates for my other stories, don't worry!


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